


will it wash out in the water, or is it always in the blood?

by spinningincircles



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, M/M, Soft Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Soft Evan "Buck" Buckley, no plot just vibes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 11:08:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29313102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spinningincircles/pseuds/spinningincircles
Summary: “Am I hard to love?”Eddie answers almost immediately, hand never stilling. “No. It’s a little too easy to love you.”
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Comments: 35
Kudos: 735





	will it wash out in the water, or is it always in the blood?

**Author's Note:**

> i am...very much in my feelings about this ep. so. here.
> 
> title from "in the blood" by john mayer

He can’t sleep.

He hasn’t been able to do much of anything these past few days — eat, read, _focus_ — so of course he can’t sleep. Every time he closes his eyes, he sees his parents, asking him what he expected them to do with two kids that made it all so hard, that didn’t _listen_ , that weren’t _enough_. How they had to _ask_ , and Buck had to _tell them_.

He wanted them — _needed them_ — to love him anyway.

That’s _it_. 

But even that was too much, apparently.

So now it’s 2am and he’s wide awake. He could work out, but his body is still sore from boxing this morning, and the look on Eddie’s face when he stopped the bag and said _I don’t recommend it_ twists something in him that he thought was long forgotten. Staring mindlessly at the TV sounds too depressing, would probably just push him right off the cliff he can feel himself dangling from. But he needs to do _something_ , focus on anything other than the stinging, crushing feeling of _too much not enough never enough_ coursing through him.

He needs to get out of this apartment, at least, so he throws on a sweatshirt and grabs his keys.

There are still cars on the road despite it being so late, but it’s quieter, easier to navigate, makes it a little easier for him to breathe, with the windows down and the radio off. The cool breeze grounds him, and he gets seconds, minutes even, of peace. Just the white noise of tires on the road and wind rushing through the Jeep. He can almost forget it all, pretend it’s last week before his parents came to town, before Maddie told him about Daniel, before his life completely tilted on its axis and threw him into freefall. But then it comes rushing back in as quick as it left, and Buck feels himself falling faster and faster.

He pulls into a parking lot eventually and just sits. His chest feels a little too tight, his hands a little too numb, and he tries to do the breathing exercises Dr. Copeland showed him, but all they do is make him more lightheaded. 

It’s a distraction, at least.

His phone vibrates softly in the cup holder. He ignores it until it buzzes again.

**[from: Eddie]** Why are you in a Target parking lot?

**[from: Eddie]** I’m pretty sure they don’t open until 8.

**[to: Eddie]** why are you creeping on me

**[from: Eddie]** Couldn’t sleep.

A pang of something gently hits Buck’s chest. Both of them awake, probably for different reasons, but it’s nice. Knowing he’s not alone.

**[to: Eddie]** me neither

He watches the three dots appear and disappear a couple of times, holding his breath. He’s not sure what he’s waiting for, what he wants Eddie to say, but he knows it’ll be what he needs. Eddie’s good at a lot of things, and telling Buck what he needs to hear, even if it’s hard, is near the top of that list.

**[from: Eddie]** Come home.

**[from: Eddie]** Please.

**[from: Eddie]** I have beer. And Oreos.

**[to: Eddie]** sold

Buck starts the engine again. _Come home_ echoes in his head, fighting off the other voices until he’s unlocking Eddie’s front door. Eddie’s stretched out on the couch, reading something on his phone, and Buck doesn’t think before dropping himself onto him, head in his lap, arms around his waist. He buries his face in his stomach, and Eddie just cards his fingers though Buck’s hair. 

It’s the first time Buck’s felt any tension leave him in almost three days.

That brief relief seems to make his mind relax a little bit, too, because there’s no moment of hesitation before he asks:

“Am I hard to love?”

Eddie answers almost immediately, hand never stilling. “No. It’s a little too easy to love you.”

“My parents would disagree.”

Eddie sighs, and Buck props his chin up so he can look at him fully. His phone is facedown on the arm of the couch and he’s staring out the window, lost in something. When he looks back at Buck, his eyes are soft and sad and bright with a hint of anger, but Buck knows it’s not directed at him.

His hand never stops moving.

“I think,” Eddie says, “that your parents have a very specific idea of what love _should_ be, and when you didn’t fit that mold, they gave up. They didn’t try to change perspectives to figure out what _you_ needed. It all came down to you to somehow figure out what _they_ needed.”

Buck swallows thickly. In all his turning over their words and trying to figure out what he did wrong, it didn’t really occur to him that he wasn’t in the wrong in the first place.

“Part of me still wants to apologize,” he whispers. “Like I always did when I was a kid. Say I’m sorry and hope that next time they’ll actually give a damn.”

“You’re an eternal optimist,” Eddie says, the faintest smile on his lips. “It’s one of those easy things to love about you. But there’s being optimistic and then there’s setting yourself up for disappointment and hurt. You have to see for yourself where that line is, but I’m pretty sure you crossed it a long time ago.”

Buck doesn’t say anything after that, just lays his head back on Eddie’s stomach and lets his words sink in. 

He always says what Buck needs to hear, even if it’s hard.

He feels his eyes close, heavy with exhaustion at this point. Eddie must notice too, because he maneuvers them on the couch until they’re both full horizontal, Buck’s head on his chest and Eddie’s arms around his shoulders.

Buck whines, but just a little bit. “You said there were Oreos.”

He feels Eddie laugh more than he hears it. “Maybe in the morning, if you don’t tell Chris.”

“Deal.” Buck smiles and sinks in a little deeper. He’s so wrapped up in Eddie and he doesn’t ever want to leave because he’s _safe_. He knows that. Never doubts it when he’s here, close enough to feel Eddie’s heart beating in time with his own.

“Thank you,” he says, slowly, half asleep.

“We’re family,” Eddie whispers into his hair. “I said I’d always have your back, and I meant it. No matter what.”

Coming from Eddie, it’s easy to believe. Doesn’t feel conditional or temporary or fake.

It just _is_. An undeniable truth.

The voices are finally quiet, and he finally falls asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> come yell about this heartbreaker of an ep on [tumblr](https://tylerhunklin.tumblr.com/) with me!


End file.
